“She’s going to be a beauty,” I said to her father, as she timidly modeled the dress she would wear at our wedding. And she is. Endlessly tall and dressed in black, she’s a presence, and she’s rarely timid anymore. She is smart and confident and creative; she is loyally devoted to what she loves, and she’s been generously gifted with the support to make herself into herself. And that support won’t be staying behind, three thousand miles away. Her things were put onto a truck on Monday, and this morning she, one of her two best friends, and her cat will set out cross-country in a packed-to-the-roof Toyota Prius. She should be arriving at her new place in New Hampshire around the time we're moving to the townhouse next door, and she'll have a couple of weeks to acclimate before the next phase of her learning, and her life, officially begins. She is the one who made him into a dad, and although it’s been almost nine years since he’s lived every day with her, this is a new stage, and a new distance in place and time, for them, as well as for her and the younger brother who has lived every day with her, and hasn't yet known life when she wasn’t there. I’m thankful that they both have our own move--next week, next door--to distract them from this other change for the next little while, but soon we’ll all have to adjust to living in a place that has a dedicated guest room, but doesn’t have her room. Still, there will always be room for her there, whenever she wants it, even as she makes room for herself in the big wide world--even in her absence, I have no doubt she’ll be a presence among us.
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